


Your Love is a Lie

by AwkwardVeganChick



Category: Simple Plan (Band)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardVeganChick/pseuds/AwkwardVeganChick





	

He stumbled forwards in tears, reaching for my hand. His cold fingers shocked my skin and goosebumps ran up my arm. 

 

“Please, Seb, don’t go. I need you. You’re the last person I want to hurt and somehow I always do. Please, for God’s sake, Seb, stay.” I freed myself from Pierre’s grip.

 

“Sebby, please…” He rasped, hardly audible over the pounding of our hearts, and the pounding in my head. “I need you.”

 

I finally found the will to answer him. I guess I can’t walk out the door without giving him a word. Or a false promise. “I’m not leaving for long. I just need to get myself together.” I then turned to face him, and quickly looked away. His eyes were either red from crying or drinking. He knew this was going to happen. This had to happen. It was useless to try and prevent it. I needed to leave.

 

“Sebby, let me say one last thing.” I began to tear up. Pierre saying my nickname was making it harder, both for him and I. Not even I could bare to say his name in this moment. He’s putting himself through a world of torment. 

 

“Yes?”

 

“When you walk out this door, you’re not mine anymore. You belong to the world. I can’t protect you, and I don’t know if I can take that. You’ve only ever been mine. My friend. My favourite person. My lo-” He paused and gasped for air through tears. “My love. Please, please stay. I’m the one that’s supposed to leave. I always leave. And I am so sorry for doing that, you never deserved it. I always came back because I thought of your innocent smile, and how your blue eyes appeared when you watched me leave. I couldn’t tell if the drops of water on the window were from the rain or your eyes. I’m a jerk, I know. But we can fix this.” He attempted to pull me close but I pulled away coldly. I stepped closer to the door. 

 

Tears streamed down my face and landed at the edge of my shirt collar. The dampness was uncomfortable, but so was everything else about this moment. Inside my head I was screaming, “Just kiss me! Just pull me back and we’ll make coffee and I’ll sit on your lap and we’ll talk about some far off country that we’ve been to! Please, Pierre…” but our problems were bigger than this. Possibly too big. I adjusted the strap of my backpack and unlocked the door. As I stepped onto the porch, I heard a thud behind me and loud sobs followed. I closed the door behind me without looking, knowing I wouldn’t have been able to handle the sight.

 

I walked about four miles before I finally decided to call a cab. It helped me to clear my head a bit, despite the stares from the people that saw my drenched shirt and puffy, red eyes. I was such a soft-hearted person. I personally thought I showed my emotions a bit too much, that I came off as fragile and annoying, however, it was one of the things that Pierre admired about me. I could cry in front of people and not worry about pride or so called ‘masculinity’. I choked on some more tears. Why was I the only one that could see that I needed to leave? We screwed up too many times. I shouldn’t want to fix this. Neither should he. That’s why it was up to me to leave.

Finally, the taxi cab pulled up. A gruff, old man pushed his cap to the side and glanced at me. I must’ve really looked like a mess because he snatched his line of sight back towards the road just about as quickly as he could without being rude. I took this as a sure fire sign that I was so bad that others were embarrassed to look at me.

 

“Where to, sir?”

 

“Any hotel or motel thirty or so minutes away from here.” I fell into the back seat, weak from crying and tired from walking.

 

There was pity in the driver’s voice as he answered a solemn “yes sir”. He asked no questions after that. Taxi drivers have a lot of experience with people, so he knew my answers already.

 

How are you?

 

Oh, I’m fine. I feel like every single happy memory i’ve ever had with this man is digging a deeper pit in my stomach with each second that passes. And it’s destroying me, but I swear, I’m fine.

 

Why are you headed there?

 

I have nowhere else to go because I walked out on the only person I’ve ever loved. All’s well that ends well though. And frankly, this didn’t end well. This ended with his heart going through a meat grinder, but then again, mine went into a blender. So what the hell? Let him hurt. Let him h- No. I wish he wasn’t hurting. I wish that all the memories he has of me could turn into a wisp of smoke and dissipate into the air. God, I wish I could do that too. 

 

Where are you from?

 

Doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t go back.

 

The drive lasted exactly 27 minutes and 43 seconds. I figured counting the time passing was easier than thinking of him. Counting… counting… Pierre threw back his head and laughed. “Can’t we be like one of those generic bands and count off with one two three four?” I looked at the beautiful boy with the brown eyes that seemed to reflect every bit of light in our practice room. He’d caught me staring at him already. Twice. He never seemed to get the hint though. I glanced down at my guitar to unlock our eyes, scared that I’d blush if I held it much longer. “I thought you were trying to be punk, Pierre? How can you be punk and generic?” He tousled his gelled hair. “Damn, you’re right Seb.” He stepped up to the mic stand that had been nearly covered in duct tape. “Guess we’ll just have to do without it then.” 

 

Hell, I even had memories of him counting. Everything was tied to him. My memories. My heart. My life. I paid the man and he left me in front of a cheap motel, but its faded blue exterior and sloping roof appeared more to me as a blessing. It was a little comfort. Touring with the guys early on sometimes left us in places like this. I remember one time, David stuck a bottle of whipped cream up Jeff’s nose in one of these places… I started laughing thinking about this, but I held back tears as I recalled that Pierre had playfully hit David in the back of the head as a punishment for that.

 

Oh, Pierre.

 

I still love you.

 

I sat and composed myself on the bench outside the office before I went in to grab my room key.

 

Once I recieved my room key, I let my fingers trace the walls on my way up to my room. Disgusting, and yet interesting. Pen scrawls and illegible phone numbers met my finger tips. So many stories. I made up stories for a few of them, but I realized that these weren't their stories. I was putting my memories to them. Seb, why can’t you stop? 

 

Exhausted, I made it to my room. I unlocked the door and stood in the entrance, examining every detail. It was just as I expected; bed, nightstand, tv, closet, bathroom, and some ugly, printed picture hung upon the wall.

 

I threw my backpack down and spread the contents on my bed. I had all of my pants, my underwear, legos, and- Crap! I couldn’t help but punch the nightstand. I forgot the shirt he gave me. It had ‘Role Model’ plastered across the front. It was a band thing. We all had a few, but that was my favourite style. I had lost my original shirt somewhere in California, but Pierre gave me a new one for my birthday. He edited it first by adding a pen scrawled ‘a’ to the bottom hem. Late nights, caffeine, and songwriting don’t go together. I always end up writing on my shirts. 

 

Don’t cry, Sebastien.

 

The image seeped into my mind. He’s sitting on our bed wearing my shirt. It’s about two sizes too small, but he doesn’t care. He’s been crying and drinking, and I’m pretty sure he’s thrown up by now. The image became more clear. The bottom hem is stretched around his hip bones, and he’s tracing the ‘a’ with his fingers. His hair is uncombed and standing off his head in odd ways. I always thought he looked his cutest with messy hair, but no, not like this. This image pains me. I imagine him glancing down at his pillow. In sheer fury, he throws the pillow against the wall. Once, twice, three times, until the picture of us is on the floor. He’s sobbing into broken glass. 

 

And I’m sobbing into a ripped backpack that can hold all of my belongings. 

 

Sebastien, enough.

 

I turned on the television. I needed some sort of noise to help me sleep. Something to replace his voice. It probably wouldn’t matter though, even as exhausted as I was. How am I supposed to sleep when everything around me is crumbling?

 

The way he was holding David… No, not holding. The way his hands were on his shoulders. I watched them sink down to his waist, then to his hips, until he stopped and leaned in for a kiss. It wasn’t the first time. I could tell that. When he reached his lips with David’s, I yelped like a child that had fallen off their bike, when inside, I felt like I was being torn apart. My Pierre, touching someone else?! No, not just someone else, one of my best friends. I ran out of the house, followed by Pierre who had tried to convince me to stay, and apologizing. And confessing. Oh, the horrible confessions. We had some falling outs, and apparently David became a part of his life during one of them, and not just in a friendly sort of fashion. Pierre refused to put him in the past, because David kept begging to stay. I felt so deceived. I went back inside, yes, but not to stay. To grab my things and go. David had already snuck out to avoid causing further problems, but it was far too late for that.

 

I don’t care about him… I don’t care about him… I don- My phone vibrated. Out of reflex I picked it up to see if it was Pierre. I caught myself at the very end of that thought. I looked anyways. No, it was Jeff. He was wondering if I was alright. I answered simply “no”, turned off my phone, and curled up on the cheap mattress. I tightened my eyelids so that no more tears could escape. After about thirty minutes of this, I gave up and let myself drift off into a deep sleep. 

 

I awoke to banging on my door. My crinkled shirt stuck to my sweaty frame as I made my way to peek through the little hole in the door. It was Jeff. How did he find me? I reluctantly unlocked the door, and he burst through and encapsulated me in a hug. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Seb. I went over with a sixpack to Pierre’s and he was there crying and I started piecing everything together and I punched him. I know you probably didn’t want to know that, but I did. You’re like a little brother to me. How dare he hurt you?! You’re the only one that he could depend on, and he treated you like shit.” Jeff was spitting every word out like poison. I’d never seen him this angry before. He really did view me as a little brother. I was the youngest, and I was a guitarist just like him, so he automatically took me under his wing.

 

“Jeff, I’m just… Look it’s not like-” He interrupted me.

 

“Look, I brought the sixpack here instead. Drink, man. It’s not the best way to handle your emotions, but drown them anyways. It always helps me.”

 

“Jeff, I don’t feel like drinking. I just want to get past all of this. Dating a fellow band member was a mistake.”

 

He popped a top and handed it over, “damn right.” I accepted it anyways, despite not wanting to drink. Jeff was trying to help in an awkward, man-to-man way. He patted me on the back after I took a sip, and then tousled my hair. 

 

“See? There ya go. After that pack, you’ll be better.”

 

“Wait, Jeff…”

“Yes?”

 

“How did you find me?”

 

“Remember that time in Germany you got lost? We didn’t want another one of those. There’s GPSs on all of our phones. Did no one ever tell you?”

 

I chuckled out an uncomfortable, “no”. “Does this mean Pierre can find me?”

 

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know if he will though. He’s probably still sopping up blood from his nose. And I warned him to stay away, and that I’d be staying here with you to ensure that.” He grabbed an extra blanket and made himself comfortable in the tattered armchair next to bed. “We can talk if you want. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Chuck may or may not be showing up in a little bit. He found out about this from David. He called Pierre later, who confirmed it. So yeah, Chuck’s bringing breakfast.”

 

“Breakfast?”

 

“Yeah dude, it’s like five in the morning.”

 

“Wait, but you said you were bringing this sixpack to Pierre…?”

 

Jeff sat in silence. Something gave me the notation that Pierre had called him for sympathy, and to help get me back, and instead Jeff punched him in the nose and grabbed the beer on the way here. Half of my band was caring for me, while the other half was probably resenting me by now. This isn’t what I wanted.

 

Just on time, someone knocked on the door. Jeff pulled it open, and a teary-eyed, sweaty David stumbled in. Without pausing, Jeff swung him by his shirt collar and held him onto the wall.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” Jeff snarled.

 

“I-I came to apologize.” David sniffled. “I just wanted Pierre to myself. And that was wrong of me. But please! This is going to break the band apart.”

 

“You should’ve thought of that before you tried to take Pierre from Seb!” Spit flew from Jeff’s mouth and splattered on David’s cheek.

 

I sat shaking my head, tears rolling down my neck. I looked towards David. “Jeff, can I talk to him for a minute?”

 

Jeff placed David back on the ground. “Yes, but know that I’ll be right outside.” He slowly cracked open the door, and slapped David roughly on the back of the shoulder as he left. “Go. He wants to talk to you.”

David approached me slowly. He dared not look at me much, but from the glimpses I caught of his eyes I could tell he felt guilty. Good, I thought, he deserves to feel guilty for all of this.

 

“Why, David? And when? I thought we were friends. Hell, I thought we were brothers. Why would you do this to me? Go behind my back and try to steal my boyfriend?”

 

“I actually have answers Seb…”

 

“Then tell me David. Hurt me some more, why don’t you? You’re a snake. No, lower. You’re worse than a snake. At least a snake will coil before it bites you. You just did it out of nowhere.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. I was done feeling sad. Now I just felt overcome with hatred. 

 

David started to cry. His sobs just made me more mad. He ruined my relationship, I didn’t ruin his. “Sebastien, please. I thought I had found something with that one girl six months ago, but after about four months she told me that she was just trying to get back at her ex and that she stayed longer than planned because I took her so many nice places. I went to Pierre crying, and he attempted to comfort me, and then he was holding me and I just…” He paused and sat down on the bed beside me. David placed his head in his hands and continued on. “I kissed him. I still can’t explain why. I just did. I don’t want to go into anymore detail, but it did go further than that. I wasn’t thinking of you, I wasn’t thinking of the band… It was just that moment. I needed that moment. And I took it. I didn’t even think about the consequences. Pierre isn’t to blame. Every time we-” I squinted at him through glassy eyes. Every time. How many times did this, or, that, happen? “Every time we were together, I could tell his head was in a different place. I could tell he was thinking about you. And that didn’t stop me! It should’ve. But fuck, I enjoyed it.” He spat the last few words out, disgusted with himself.

 

“Then why the hell did you keep going back?! How many times did this happen David?! Five, ten, twenty?! You should’ve stopped after one. I think I would’ve excused that… At least now I would’ve, because now I know you let it go too far!”

 

“Please Seb, please no. Oh god, don’t let this break everyone apart!”

 

“You know what? I won’t. I’ll go back to Pierre. I’ll tell him I’ll take him back if we get a new bassist. Jeff will vote against you too. That’s three people against you, David.”

 

“Sebastien please no… No, no, no. I’ll do anything. I’ll never look at Pierre again. Whatever it takes. This is my life Seb!” He crawled off the bed and sunk to the floor. His face glistened with sweat as he stood on his knees, begging over and over. “I don’t want Pierre. Please, Seb.”

 

“David,” I looked down at him, softening. “Pierre and I will never be the same again. The band will never be the same again. I want to try, David. I want to make everything alright again, but every time I see you, it’s a reminder. It’ll be a reminder forever. I guess the pain will numb itself… But you’re right. The band means more than any relationship. Come on, let’s go get Jeff. We need to go. And I’ve got a song to write.”


End file.
